Tears of a Phoenix
by Sulphuric Wolf
Summary: Moltres loves Zapdos. Zapdos loves Articuno, and she loves him back. It sounds so simple and harmless, but Moltres soon discovers the world of pain that is unrequited love. Onsided!Fireboltshipping, Boltbeam Shipping.


"Tell me how it started. Go back to the beginning."

His words were warm and appeared to bear the façade of comfort, not unlike the expression in the eyes that gazed upon her. They were strange eyes- the pupils bright red and the irises a radiant, almost mechanical green – almost alien in appearance. They showed that this creature was not entirely of this world, but they were still lit by the warmth of pity.

The body was strange, too; almost equine in appearance, with long slender legs that ended in shimmering gold points. The chalky grey fur covering his body was not like that of any ordinary horse, however, rather long and plush by comparison, aside from the fur on his underside that ended at the tip of his short, jagged furred tail, which was patterned and smoky grey. His long, spiky-furred neck ended in a canine head with small, pointed ears and a face that was mostly covered by the same patterned grey fur that was present on his neck, and a long silky mane extended out the back of his skull, giving him a regal and striking appearance.

But his most remarkable attribute was the huge golden wheel that wrapped snugly around his waist. Four spokes extended from the thick band and were enveloped by a ring of gold about a foot from their edges. Set in the wider section of gold where this ring met each spoke was a sparkling gem the hue of his eyes; gleaming with some unknown light to signify his majesty and power.

The phoenix looked at her creator through different eyes than she had used to. Once upon a time, she had looked up at him with respect and gratitude. Then again, the events of the last year or so had changed the way she saw everything.

He had taken her deep into the catacombs of the Great Hall: through shimmering golden corridors and under arches of the same hue, places only he had ever seen. She had hopped along meekly besides him, musing with dark humour that if she had not been in the circumstances she was in, she would have been amazed by the sheer vastness of the place she had often visited, but not thought overly deeply about.

She had followed him into a white room, featureless aside from a white bucket and a perch made from marble in the centre of the room. It may have been the only room that was not made from gold in the whole structure. He had offered her the perch, while he remained standing, stiffness in his bandy legs.

And now here they were: face to face. There was no going back now, what had happened and even Dialga couldn't repair the harm done.

She felt guilty, oh my word, she did. It racked through her body like the blade of an enraged Scyther, coursed through every atom of her being, causing her to quiver and shake like the Hall was falling down. But the guilt was nowhere near as bad as the blazing ache of her heart; the yawning, huge gap in the left side of her golden feathered chest. It made her want to tuck her head under her flaming wing and pretend none of it had happened, that she was just back in her cosy cave on Fire Island.

And then there was the huge ache in her head. No creature of earth - human or other - had experience such a pain. The sounds were to blame. Those awful, crashing noises that throbbed in her narrow temples and the searing whir of a spinning blade tearing apart the back of her slender skull. The thrum just behind the eardrums that lay hidden beneath her feathers was enough to send anyone insane. It was a migraine, all right: her stomach churned and flipped, threatening to expel the meals she had ingested that day.

She kept her eyes fixed on the floor, not daring to look up at him. She didn't think that she would be able to meet his gaze, even if she did. She was utterly ashamed, shaken right to her core.

One thing was for sure, she would never feel the same again. Heck, she didn't even know if she could feel anything good ever again.

"Are you okay, Moltres?" The elegant voice had all the depth and gentle tones of a father concerned about his daughter, which, when you think about it, was almost right. Arceus was indeed worried about his creation, this drawn and haggard bird that once flew the skies with streaming flames on her wings and golden feathers that glowed with the intensity of molten lava.

Now, the flames were dull and barely present, and her feathers had taken on a duller, almost muddy hue. He had watched this transformation over recent times, worrying silently for the Goddess of Flame but never speaking up, regaining his composure. Besides, the fact that she was looking a bit off colour had never mattered much. It could have been anything, really.

Her dark green eyes remained fixed on the floor, wide with fear. She made no attempt to answer him, even after his second attempt.

After his third attempt to rouse her awareness, he slowly edged closer, hooves clacking on the white marble beneath them. She stiffened her thin muscles as he drew near, unwilling to be close to anyone. Yet she did not draw away as his fur brushed on her feathers. She just remained on her perch, impervious to his warmth, even as he gazed at her with the eyes that had seen the birth of the universe.

They stayed like that for a few moments, neither of them moving. In this time, Moltres had clasped her eyes shut. Unbeknownst to the celestial being beside her, she was wishing with all of her might that this hadn't happened. That the one who this was all about felt the same as her, or that she didn't feel this way about him.

But Jirachi was too far away to hear her silent plea, and of course, he couldn't change the events anyway. Nothing could.

The feeling of hopelessness and despair was enough to push her over the edge. Her stomach flipped, and she found herself hunched over, expelling her food for the day noisily through her mouth into the white bucket. Arceus made soft noises that apparently were supposed to comfort her, and gently patted her on the back with his hoof as she vomited. When she was done, she let out a shivering sob and wiped her beak on the perch, trying to ignore the sting of bile in her throat and the unpleasant clench of her throat muscles.

He waited for a moment while her sobbing subsided, and then continued to speak. "I know it's hard," He whispered softly, his tone sincere. "But if you tell me what happened, I may be able to h- make it easier." Moltres knew that internally he would be cursing himself for his bad choice of words, after all, as creator of the universe he should have known exactly what to say.

Vomiting hadn't made the pain coursing through her body go away at all, but she forced herself to answer him. It would be rude, otherwise. "I appreciate your concern, Arceus. But really, nothing can be done."

He pulled his lip back to show neat white fangs, and breathed in and out heavily. What could he do, but try to listen to what she said? "At least tell me what happened," He sighed. "Don't you think I deserve to know?"

Moltres shut her eyes, and drew in a deep shuddering breath. She had already come this far, what was the harm in him knowing now? "Okay," she finally whispered. "But it's going to be hard for both of us. Remember that."

Arceus nodded. "Tell me. Go back to the beginning." He repeated.

A single tear trekked down Moltres' feathered face. "It began not too long ago…"


End file.
